Little elegies

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
Ey, FACULTY or MUSIC

Thursdays at Noon: Little Elegies
Monica Whicher, soprano and Steven Philcox, piano

Thursday, February 16, 2023 at 12:10 pm | Walter Hall, 80 Queen’s Park

PROGRAM
Please withhold applause until the end of each set of songs.

Scheidend, Opus 9 no. 6
Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)
Johann Gustav Droysen (1808-1884)

Little Elegy
Ned Rorem (1923-2022)
Elinor Wylie (1885-1928)

Velvet Shoes (2007)
Ray Lustig
Elinor Wylie (1885-1928)

| Remember (Evening Primrose)
Steven Sondheim (1930-2021)

On Parent Knees, Opus posthumous (To A Poet)
Gerald Finzi (1901-1956)
attributed to William Jones (1746-1794) after the Persian

Branch by Branch (Five Millay Songs)
H. Leslie Adams (b. 1932)
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

We wish to acknowledge this land on which the University of Toronto operates.

For thousands of years it has been the traditional land of the Huron-Wendat, the Seneca, and the
Mississaugas of the Credit.

Today, this meeting place is still the home to many Indigenous people from across Turtle Island and
we are grateful to have the opportunity to work on this land.

The New Ghost
Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1950)
Fredegond Shove (1889-1949)

The Lordly Hudson
Ned Rorem (1923-2022)
Paul Goodman (1911-1972)

++++

Jeg elsker Dig (Hjertets Melodier, Opus 5 no. 3)
Edvard Grieg (1843-1907)
Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)

Solveig’s Lullaby (Peer Gynt, Opus 23)
Edvard Grieg
Henrik lbsen (1828-1926)

J’ai perdu mon amant (Five Songs from Canadian Traditional Collections)
arranged by John Beckwith (1927-2022)

Asteri mou, feggari mou
Mikis Theodorakis (1925-2021)
Nikos Gatsos (1911-1992)

Sonnet: Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring (Three Songs for Diane Kalish,
in memorium, 2015)
Sheila Silver (b. 1946)
Edna St. Vincent Millay

Down by the Salley Gardens
Ivor Gurney (1890-1937)
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

My Feet May Take a Little While (2006)
Errollyn Wallen (b. 1958)

Nature Boy
eden ahbez (1908-1995)
arranged by Sharon Minemoto (b. 1973)

Little Elegies
PROGRAM NOTES

This is a program about love and remembering. | am thinking, with each of these songs and
poems, of all that has come to pass in these most recent years of our lives, when the sharing of
burden, loss or grief has not always been possible. | am thinking of home and what it means
when we may or may not go to it. And | am thinking, especially, of the gift we can acknowledge
when there is someone whom we miss, as a dear cousin of mine says, “a little or a lot, every
single day”.

Although there is a personal connection to each of these songs and texts, their explorations of
longing, of decision, states of grace, pictures, passages, and the pennies that drop - are
universal. The songs collected here in two ad hoc “cycles” offer, as songs so often do, space for
contemplation and for connection.

There is so much of a creator’s life that inspires their writing of poetry or music, and so much
that inspires the union of these. Ned Rorem’s whole life was made up these unions. So, too
was our own John Beckwith’s. The tumult of Elinor Wylie’s life was perhaps offset by her words
- SO spare — of reverence for nature and, in “Little Elegy”, for one no longer here. Sheila Silver’s
setting of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s Sonnet, “Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring” is a
true work of dedication and profound remembrance. Millay’s words as set by H. Leslie Adams
clarify something decisive, something final. Errollyn Wallen’s own words and music, dedicated
to her mother, give space for the kindness of self-acceptance...

As people who perform, there is no end in our own lives to all that impels us to express to -
share our own and others’ stories. So too, the lives of listeners inform what might, at any given
moment, become clear or confusing; what might transport us or focus us; what might give us
permission to feel, or to understand things differently. However we experience a musical
offering, tucked away in our singular experience is something larger: the resonance of empathy
and shared understanding.

Monica Whicher

Little Elegies
TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS

Scheidend (Parting), poem by Johann Gustav Droysen (1808-1884)

Wie so gelinde die Flut bewegt!
Wie sie so ruhig den Nachen tragt!
Fern liegt das Leben, das Jugendland!

Fern, fern liegt der Schmerz, der dort mich

band,

Sanft tragt mich, Fluten, zum fernen Land!

Droben der Sterne stiller Ort,
Unten der Strom flieft fort und fort.

Wohl warst du reich, mein Jugendland!
Wohl, wohl war es sUf&, was dort mich band,
Sanft tragt mich, Fluten, zum fernen Land!

Little Elegy, poem by Elinor Wylie (1885-1928)

Withouten you

No rose can grow;
No leaf be green

If never seen

Your sweetest face;
No bird have grace
Or power to sing;
Or anything

Be kind, or fair,
And you nowhere.

Velvet Shoes, poem by Elinor Wylie

Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;

With footsteps quiet and slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.

| shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,

White as white cow’s milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.

How gently the tide moves!

How calmly it carries the boat!

Far away lies life, the land of youth!

Far, far away lies the pain that bound me there,
Carry me gently, floods, to that distant land!

Above, the stars’ quiet space,

Below, the river flows on and on.

You were indeed rich, land of my youth!

Sweet, so sweet, was all that held me there,

Carry me gently, floods, to that distant land!
Translation by M. Whicher

We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;

We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.

We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go

Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.

| Remember, lyrics by Steven Sondheim (1930-2021), from Evening Primrose

| remember sky

It was blue as ink

Or at least | think

| remember sky

| remember snow
Soft as feathers
Sharp as thumb tacks
Coming down like lint

And it made you squint

When the wind would blow

And ice like vinyl on the streets
Cold as silver, white as sheets

Rain like strings and changing things
Like leaves

| remember leaves

Green as spearmint

Crisp as paper

| remember trees

Bare as coat racks

Spread like broken umbrellas

And parks and bridges

Ponds and zoos

Ruddy faces, muddy shoes

Light and noise and bees and boys
And days

| remember days
Or at least | try

But as years go by
They're sort of haze
And the bluest ink
Isn't really sky

And at times | think
| would gladly die
For a day of sky

On Parent Knees, poem attributed to William Jones (1746-1794), after the Persian

On parent knees, a naked new-born child,

Weeping thou sat'st, while all around thee smiled:
So live, that sinking to thy life’s last sleep,

Calm thou may'st smile, while all around thee weep.

Branch by Branch, poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

Branch by branch
This tree has died. Green only
Is one last bough, moving its leaves in the sun.

What evil ate its root, what blight,

What ugly thing,

Let the mole say, the bird sing;

Or the white worm behind the shedding bark
Tick in the dark.

You and | have only one thing to do:
Saw the trunk through.

The New Ghost, poem by Fredegond Shove (1889-1949)

And he cast it down, down, on the green grass,

Over the young crocuses, where the dew was--

He cast the garment of his flesh that was full of death,
And like a sword his spirit showed out of the cold sheath.
He went a pace or two, he went to meet his Lord,

And, as | said, his spirit looked like a clean sword,

And seeing him the naked trees began shivering,

And all the birds cried out aloud as it were late spring.

And the Lord came on, He came down, and saw

That a soul was waiting there for Him, one without flaw,

And they embraced in the churchyard where the robins play,
And the daffodils hang down their heads, as they burn away.

The Lord held his head fast, and you could see

That he kissed the unsheathed ghost that was gone free--

As a hot sun, on a March day, kisses the cold ground;

And the spirit answered, for he knew well that his peace was found.

The spirit trembled, and sprang up at the Lord's word--

As on a wild, April day, springs a small bird--

So the ghost's feet lifting him up, he kissed the Lord's cheek,

And for the greatness of their love neither of them could speak.
But the Lord went then, to show him the way,

Over the young crocuses, under the green may

That was not quite in flower yet--to a far-distant land;

And the ghost followed, like a naked cloud holding the sun's hand.

The Lordly Hudson, poem by Paul Goodman (1911-1972)

“Driver, what stream is it?”
| asked, well knowing

it was our lordly Hudson
hardly flowing.

“It is our lordly Hudson
hardly flowing,” he said,
“under the green-grown cliffs.”

Be still, heart!

No one needs

your passionate suffrage

to select this glory—

this is our lordly Hudson
hardly flowing

under the green-grown cliffs.

“Driver has this a peer
in Europe or the East?”

“No, no!” He said.
Home! Home!

Be quiet, heart!

This is our lordly Hudson
and has no peer

in Europe or the East;
this is our lordly Hudson
hardly flowing

under the green-grown cliffs
and has no peer

in Europe or the East;
be quiet, heart!

Home! Home!

Jeg elsker Dig (| Love You), poem by Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)

Min Tankes Tanke ene Du er vorden, You have become my only thought.

Du er mit Hjzrtes fgrste Kjzerlighed. You are my heart’s first love.

Jeg elsker Dig som Ingen her pa Jorden, | love you as no one else here on Earth,
jeg elsker Dig i Tid og Evighed. | love you through time and eternity!

Translation by M. Whicher

Solveig’s Vuggesang (Solveig’s Lullaby), poem by Henrik Ibsen, 1828-1926

Sov, du dyreste Gutten min!
Jeg skal vugge dig, jeg skal vage.

Gutten har siddet pa sin Moders Fang.
De to har leget hele Livsdagen lang.

Gutten har hvilet ved sin Moders Bryst
hele Livsdagen lang. Grud signe dig, min Lyst!

Gutten har ligget til mit Hjerte taet
hele Livsdagen lang. Nu er han sa treet.
Sov, du dyreste Gutten min!

Jeg skal vugge dig, jeg skal vage.

J’ai perdu mon amant (Traditional French Canadian)

J’ai perdu mon amant.
Et je m’en souci’ guére;
Le regret que j’en ai
Sera bientdt passé.

Je porterai le deuille
D’un habit de satin;

Je verserai des larmes
De vin.

Amant, que j’t’ai donc fait
Qui puiss’ tant te déplaire?
Est-c’ que j’t’ai pas aimé
Comm’ tu l’as mérité?

Je t’ai aimé, je t’aime,

Je t’aimerai toujours.

Pour toi mon coeur soupire
Toujours.

La maison de chez nous
C’est un lieu solitaire;

Onn’y voit pas souvent
Divertir ses amants.

Pour des amants qu’on aime,
Qu’on aim’ si tendrement,
On aimerait les voire
Souvent.

Sleep my dearest boy!
| will cradle you, | will stay awake.

The boy has been sitting in his mother’s lap.
The two have played for life’s long day.

The boy has rested at his mother’s breast
For all of life’s long day. God bless you, my Joy!

The boy has lain close to my heart
For life’s long day. Now he is so tired.
Sleep my dearest boy!

| will cradle you, | will stay awake.
Translation by M. Whicher

| have lost my love,

but it hardly concerns me;
the regret that | have

will soon be in the past.

| will wear mourning clothes
of satin;

| will shed tears

of wine.

Love, what have | done to you

that could upset you so?

Is it that | didn’t love you

as you deserved?

| did love you; | do love you;

| will love you always.

For you my heart sighs
always.

Our house
is a lonely place;
there, one does not often find
the diversions of lovers.
For the lovers that one loves,
that one loves so tenderly,
one would like to see them
often.

Translation by M. Whicher

Asteri mou, fengari mou, poem by Nikos Gatsos (1911-1992)

Aoteépt Lou, deyyapl wou, tng avotenc kKAwVapPL My star, my moon, my branch of spring

LOU | will come to you again, | will come near you one
KOVTa GOU Od ‘pBw MaAL, KOVTa COU OG ‘pOw LLAV dawn

auyn to give you a kiss and you will take me back.

Vla Va GOOU TIApW Eva PUI Kal Va LE TIGPELC MCAL.

My love, my love, the night will take us away,
Ayamn ou, aydaimn pou, n vuxta 8a Lac mMap_eL, the stars and the sky, the cold moon.
VU GOTPa KLO OUPAVOG, TO KpUO To deyyapt.

| will love you, | will live in the song,

Oa o’ ayarw, 8a Cw Es OTO ToayoUdt you will love me, you will live with the birds,
8a w’ ayardc, 8a Zetc WE Ta MOUALA | will love you, we will become song,
8a o’ ayanw, 8a yivoupE Tpayoudt you will love me, we will become birds.

8a w’ ayardc, 8a yivouuE TOUALa

Translation by M. Whicher
Sonnet Ill: Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring, poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,
And all the flowers that in the springtime grow,
And dusty roads, and thistles, and the slow
Rising of the round moon, all throats that sing
The summer through, and each departing wing,
And all the nests that the bared branches show,
And all winds that in any weather blow,
And all the storms that the four seasons bring.

You go no more on your exultant feet
Up paths that only mist and morning knew,

Or watch the wind, or listen to the beat
Of a bird’s wings too high in air to view, —

But you were something more than young and sweet
And fair,—and the long year remembers you.

Down by the Salley Gardens, poem by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

Down by the salley gardens my love and | did meet;

She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;
But |, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.

In a field by the river my love and | did stand,

And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;
But | was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.

My Feet May Take a Little While, poem by Errollyn Wallen (b. 1958)

My feet may take a little while

To walk the way of my dreaming heart;
The more | walk, the more | breathe,
The more | breathe, the less | know.

There is a song that | was taught,
Of hills and streams and all

The hopes and fears of living things
Are written there in me.

My feet are slower than my heart,
Slower than my dreams, than my will.
I’ll walk a million miles,

I’ve walked a million miles of innocence.

My feet may take a little while

To walk the way of my dreaming heart;
The more | walk, the more | breathe,
The more | breathe, the less | know.

Nature Boy, poem by eden ahbez (1908-1995)

There was a boy

Avery strange enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea

A little shy and sad of eye

But very wise was he.

And then one day

A magic day he passed my way

And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings

This he said to me

The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return.

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